


Better Than the Movies

by delboyanddier



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: Grinding, Liverpool F.C., M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-10
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-15 03:53:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18066110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delboyanddier/pseuds/delboyanddier
Summary: In different circumstances, Trent might want to be stuck in a lift with Jordan and Dejan. If Dejan weren’t in the lift, that is. And if Jordan would confess his burning desire for Trent, press him against the elevator wall, pin his arms above his head and kiss him like they’re never getting out.Or:Trent and Jordan make out in a lift.





	Better Than the Movies

**Author's Note:**

> This was vaguely inspired by the time when Trent, Jordan, Dejan and a few other players got stuck in an elevator before the Bayern game. Hope you enjoy!

In different circumstances, Trent might want to be stuck in a lift with Jordan and Dejan. If Dejan weren’t in the lift, that is. And if Jordan would confess his burning desire for Trent, press him against the elevator wall, pin his arms above his head and kiss him like they’re never getting out.

But that’s not going to happen. This isn’t one of those rom-com ads Trent pretends to grimace at when he and Joe watch Netflix (he remembers the name of it so he can watch it later). His relationship with Jordan isn’t a sappy movie, Trent thinks as he wipes off sweat from his brow.

“Trent, you alright?” 

Trent snaps out of his reverie and looks around in elevator. Dejan sleeps soundly in the corner. Slouched next to Trent, Jordan looks at him with breathtaking blue eyes, wide and concerned.

In their Bezzies video, Jordan said his eyes were his best feature. Maybe they are, but Trent thinks all of Jordan’s features are his best features. His smile, a flash of blinding light, makes Trent’s legs feel weak, like he played a full ninety minutes. And his beard. It’s trimmed and masculine—just what Trent likes. God, he wants that beard to scratch his jaw, his abs, the inside of his thighs—

“Trent?” Jordan raises his voice a little, places a warm hand on his thigh. Trent shivers at the touch and hopes it’s not noticeable.

“Sorry, ‘m fine. Just me head zonin’ out and that. Bit hot in here, innit?” Trent plucks at the front of his training kit. He leans back against the wall and sighs when his sweaty neck hits cool metal.

“It is hot. Your own fault, ya know.” Jordan sends him one of those blinding grins and a wink. Trent knows its banter but apparently his heart doesn’t, because his pulse thunders in his chest and in his ears. 

“It’s someone else’s fault, too.” Trent looks over at Jordan, who licks his lips and raises his eyebrows at the right back.

“Dejan is quite attractive and that.” Trent smirks, gestures to the sleeping defender, whose eyelids seem to twitch at the mention of his name. 

Jordan shoves Trent’s shoulder and rolls his eyes at the right back, who doubles over in laughter. He removes his hand from Trent’s thigh and Trent already misses the warm, pleasant touch on his skin.

After one last remark from Jordan—“unbelievable, you are” — the banter dies down and they talk about nothing in particular. Jordan goes on about something stupid Milner did the other day. Trent ends up talking about chess and how Eric “is alright, to be fair” but certainly not better than Trent, which makes Jordan burst into laughter and Trent feels something warm burst in his chest. 

Then they sink into silence, which wraps around them like a blanket. It comforts Trent, reminds him that he can share himself and his interests with Jordan but also just _be_ , just enjoy the older man’s company. Jordan starts to hum Alicia Keys and it echoes in the lift. Trent always teases the midfielder’s music choice but secretly, he thinks his passion is cute, thinks Jordan is cute when he softly hums. For a moment, Trent wonders what it would feel like if Jordan hummed, moaned into his mouth. What it would feel like if Jordan wrapped his lips around his cock and hummed around his length—

“Can’t believe we play Bayern tomorrow.” Jordan murmurs, stroking his beard. Trent watches intently for a moment. He finds the beard stroking ridiculously attractive. But Trent thinks everything about Jordan is ridiculously attractive. 

“Shit, almost forgot,” Trent rubs his face with both hands and unconsciously bounces his thigh. He feels Jordan’s eyes on his face, then his leg.

“You nervous, mate?” Jordan looks over at Trent with those concerned, blue eyes again.

“Been so long since I played for a full match, with me knee and that.” Trent sighs, reaches for his knee out of habit. 

“Hey, you’re the best right back in England. You’ll do alright.” Jordan sends him a warm, genuine smile and Trent feels his stomach swoop. 

“Best right back, really? Shocking, that.” Trent shakes his head in disbelief, smiling despite himself. 

“It’s true! We were shambles against West Ham. With you not there and that.” 

“How long we been in here?” Trent tries to change the subject, tries to ignore how Jordan’s compliment makes heat bloom on his cheeks, makes something flutter in his chest. Jordan reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone.

“Long enough to miss our afternoon practice,” Jordan opens the messaging app, “Adam says the repairmen ‘ave been working for two hours.” Trent groans, thumps his head against the metal behind him.

“Horrible time to get stuck in a lift, this is. Right before the Bayern game.” Trent shakes his head. Jordan chuckles, low and amused, and his hand falls on Trent’s thigh.

“Is there a good time to get stuck in a lift?” 

“Suppose it’s nice in the movies, innit? One person presses the other against the wall and they, ya know. Snog and that.” Trent feels his face burst into flames, unbelievably embarrassed that he just shared his fantasy with Jordan. 

“Only in the movies?” Jordan raises his eyebrows, bites his bottom lip as it curls into a smirk. Trent averts his gaze and stares straight ahead—if he looked at Jordan any longer he might combust—but he feels Jordan’s breath on his cheek, so they must be close. The hand on Trent’s thigh moves higher, which makes Trent feel a little hopeful, a little brave. 

“You tell me.” Trent turns to Jordan, their faces a breath apart. The midfielder meets his gaze and holds it. Trent feels all the air leave his lungs as he stares into those silver-blue eyes, electric like the sky before a storm. 

After what seems like an eternity, Jordan looks at his lips and Trent feels his mouth go dry. The smell of expensive aftershave overwhelms Trent as Jordan hovers closer, as his nose almost brushes against Trent’s. _Is this really happening?_

“Is this really happening—” 

There’s a hand on Trent’s his jaw and Jordan surges forward and kisses him. It’s just a tentative press of lips on lips, but a sense of yearning overwhelms Trent, shoots through his abdomen like white-hot lighting. Then Jordan moves his lips softly, capturing Trent’s bottom lip over and over again. Trent melts into the kiss, starts moving his lips and matching Jordan’s rhythm. His palm comes to rest on Jordan’s chest when Jordan pulls back a little, his smile blinding and genuine. He exhales shakily against Trent’s lips.

“Wanted to do that for some time now, Trent.” Jordan laughs, soft and breathless, and Trent wants to hear that beautiful sound for the rest of his life.

“Want to do it again?” 

Jordan just smiles and cups Trent’s neck, pulling him in and pressing their mouths together again. This time the kiss is anything but shy and slow. Jordan devours his lower lip, then licks into Trent’s mouth. The sound of kissing, wet and open-mouthed, shoots straight to Trent’s cock and reverberates through the lift. Their tongues slide together and Trent moans into the heat of Jordan’s mouth. He runs his hands over the midfielder’s firm chest, memorizing and savoring every muscle. He fists Jordan’s kit and tugs him closer. But he needs more, wants every inch of his body against Jordan.

Trent breaks the kiss for a moment and throws a leg over Jordan. His mind short circuits when he realizes he’s straddling _Jordan Henderson_ , his crush ever since he joined the first team, the man who embraces him after goals and defeats. The man Trent thinks about when he takes himself in hand and bites down on his fist, so he doesn’t scream the midfielder’s name. Trent tries to steady himself, rests his hands on the blonde’s broad shoulders. 

“Thought you wanted to be pressed against the wall?” Jordan teases, eyes traveling up Trent’s body, taking in his new position. 

“I did but,” Trent kisses him hard again. Trimmed stubble scratches Trent’s face and his dick throbs in his shorts. He grinds down on Jordan’s lap, which makes the midfielder gasp against Trent’s lips.

“I think I like this better.” Trent pulls away and grins, satisfied with Jordan’s darkening eyes and his messy, sweaty hair—a far cry from its gelled perfection an hour ago. Grinding down again, Trent smirks when he feels something hard press into his ass. Trent wants to lick into Jordan’s mouth again, so he does.

“Sinful, you are.” Jordan half whispers, half groans against the right back’s mouth. Then the midfielder slides his tongue between full, pink lips, swallowing Trent’s moans. Strong hands slip under Trent’s shirt and rest on his waist, his hips. He pulls Trent down so their crotches press together. The midfielder thrusts up and Trent gasps, moans softly—

The elevator pings. 

Trent pulls away and looks at Jordan, whose wide eyes mirror his surprise. Dejan groans and stirs in the corner, which makes Trent leap off Jordan and scramble to his feet. Jordan does the same, then attempts to fix his messy hair, combing through it while looking at the mirrored wall.

The lift lurches beneath them and Trent feels his stomach swoop as they descend. Glancing in the mirror, Trent meets Jordan’s gaze. He takes in their disheveled appearances: the bitten lips, flushed faces and heaving chests. Raging hard-ons strain against their athletic shorts and Trent feels his stomach tighten at the sight of Jordan, how large he is. Trent snaps his gaze up and Jordan smirks—he _definitely_ saw Trent checking him out—before his own gaze drops below Trent’s waist. And fuck, when Jordan lets his eyes linger, raises his eyebrows appreciatively, Trent feels his cock grow impossibly harder. 

Then the elevator door opens and Trent awakens from his aroused stupor, finally turning his attention away from Jordan and the mirror. Still slumped in the corner, Dejan smacks the sleep from his lips. Trent prays to every deity, including the divine and _fine_ Steven Gerrard, that Dejan doesn’t look below their waists. But Dejan only rubs the sleep from his face, stretches his arms before he stands up and makes his way to the exit. 

“Glad you, ehm, worked things out.” Dejan pats Trent’s shoulder as they walk out of the lift.

“Sorry?” Trent shares a look with Jordan.

“Oh, I was awake the entire time.” Dejan smirks and shakes his head, “And everyone thinks I’m the dumbass. Glad you guys had fun though.” Dejan wiggles his eyebrows at them, then meanders down the hall without waiting for their response. Trent feels his face burst into flames while Jordan snickers beside him. 

“He was awake the whole time? Shocking, that.” Trent shakes his head, hides his red face in his hands. Jordan laughs at his embarrassment. He takes Trent’s hands from his face and rubs a soothing hand down his back. Trent wonders how Jordan is not completely humiliated by their teammate witnessing them making out—no, fucking dry humping—in a public lift.

“I’m afraid we’ll be known as Liverpool’s exhibitionists now. Cause Dejan can’t keep his mouth shut and that.” Jordan laughs, wipes tears from his eyes. Trent groans and resists the urge to bury his face in his hands again.

“Can’t believe you did that. That was. That was, wow.” Trent blushes furiously, but he can’t stop grinning. He just kissed Jordan Henderson. And straddled him. And felt his beard scratch his jaw and his hard-on rub against his—

“Was it better than the movies?” Jordan’s smile is blinding and Trent almost swoons.

“Suppose it was alright.” Trent shrugs, then bursts into laughter when the smile falls from Jordan’s face.

“Alright? You was grinding against me and swallowing me tongue, but it was just alright?”

Trent glances down the hotel hallway. When he sees no one milling about, he steps closer to Jordan and wraps his arms around his neck.

“Nah, it was. It was more than alright.” Trent averts his gaze, shy smile on his face.

“If that’s the case, maybe we could finish where we left off in me room.” Jordan thumbs Trent’s hip bone under his kit and that alone makes his dick twitch in his shorts. Trent sucks in a breath.

“I’ll follow your lead, captain.” Trent giggles when Jordan growls at that. A hand grabs Trent’s wrist and Jordan all but drags Trent down the hall to his room. 

“Not funny, ya know. Made me hard as a rock, that.” Jordan groans at the new pet name and halts in front of his room. While the midfielder pulls out his wallet, Trent wraps an arm around his waist and whispers all the things he wants to do to his _captain_. Sucking the skin below Jordan’s jaw, Trent giggles into his neck as the midfielder fumbles for his keycard, cursing when he doesn’t find it. Several bruises bloom on Jordan’s neck by the time he finally swipes his card, punches in the code, and drags Trent inside.

As soon as the door clicks behind them, Jordan grabs Trent by the hips and slams his back into the wall. He nips Trent’s plush, pink lips and licks into his mouth wetly. Then Jordan kisses his exposed neck, pulls back Trent’s shirt to lick his abs, his hipbone before he sinks to his knees. 

Jordan looks up at him with those storm blue eyes, charged with passion and arousal, as he tugs down Trent’s waistband and wraps a hand around his length. And in that moment, Trent realizes their relationship is nothing like a romantic movie—it’s infinitely better.

**Author's Note:**

> If you enjoyed this fic or are interested in a part two, please let me know. Your feedback means everything! Thanks for reading <3


End file.
